The Color Of Thunder
by boomboxdragon
Summary: For every end, a beginning. For every dusk, a dawn. Part One of the Color of Thunder. A retelling of the formation of the Strike Squad and re-imagining of STORM and world of Monsuno.


**Authors Note;**

 **There will be major canon divergence, including but not limited to relationships, major events, scenes, and family relationships. Most of the story takes place prior to Season One and as such is mostly speculation and original thought. The majority of the cast is made up of original characters, save for the few STORM characters already introduced in the show. As much as I love monsuno, I have a lot of problems with the lack of world building and how some characters were handled. Critiques, reviews, even gripes are always welcome. I am human and expect to make characterization mistakes but will try my hardest to remain true to form at least in that aspect of the show.**

 **So if you're still here, and all right with a little - okay, a lot - of changes, please enjoy.**

 **This story is cross-posted on ArchiveOfOurOwn, DeviantArt, and Fanfiction.**

* * *

 **Winter. Year 232 Post-Treaty.**

Faolan had not touched his brother in nearly three years.

Even at family dinners, holidays, or balls, Faolan had yet to even be within three feet of his elder brother.

And yet, here he was, struggling to match Ralphion's stride down the steel corridor.

"Ralphion," He began, but before Faolan could finish his brother lifted a gloved hand.

"If I told you once," The young man started, "I've told you a thousand times. You've got to call me Volt now."

Faolan's face blushed as crimson as his hair. While Ralphion - Volt, right, it had been Volt since the day he and the girls left for basic training - was not chastising, his voice was so different than before. No longer was it the easy-going moseying tone of a teenager. Every time Faolan saw him, he had to remind himself that his brother was not a child.

He was a soldier.

Volt may have only been four years his senior, yet they were worlds apart. His red hair, like any other member of the Connacht family, was pressed flat against his head, while Faolan's tangles looked more like an obnoxious toddler's attempt at a quiff. His golden eyes were now sharp, always surveying, always calculating, while Faolan knew his own looked like the mope of a kicked puppy.

They walked in silence for a moment before Volt spoke again. The sound of their matching black boots clinked along the hollow hall, the only other sound Faolan's short breathing.

"What were you going to ask?"

Faolan moistened his lips. He had to turn his head to look up at his older brother, feeling smaller still. When he left for training, Volt was barely scraping five feet, unlike their sisters who were both 5'6 by their thirteenth birthday. Now, Volt even made their father look small, without boots being a solid 6'1.

"I was going to...ask if you think Father will be there?"

Volt stopped hard in his tracks. He heaved a great sigh and turned to face him, leaning down with his hands on his knees.

Faolan inhaled with flared cheeks. Leaning to his height made him feel like he was Weylyn and Lyka's age.

"Father is a busy man, Alpha."

Faolan barked back before Volt could finish his sentence.

"That's another thing! _Why_ do you have to go by Volt? Why do I have to be called Alpha? Why can't I go by my name? If I'm supposed to be honoring our family name - I just…"

Volt's gaze softened, and Faolan felt bile in his throat.

Now he _really_ sounded like Lyka.

"I don't understand."

Volt sighed, again, though this time it was less of annoyance and more of concern.

"It's for your own safety. For Mother's safety. For-"

Faolan felt the words coming out of his mouth like an automaton, in unison with Volt.

"For a better tomorrow."

He crossed his arms. The jumpsuit was starting to itch.

"But it's not like everyone doesn't know who we are! Our whole family looks like carbon copies of Dad!"

His brother gave a hearty laugh, standing straight up again. Faolan wasn't sure he had heard Volt laugh in what felt like a century.

How the years had changed him. At least Chanteloup, or Zeta now, made an effort to speak to him and the twins whenever she would visit.

"That's a good point, baby brother. I don't quite know all the intricacies of the association either, but you've just gotta suck it up, and one day you'll have all the answers you need." When he clapped Faolan's shoulder, the boy nearly toppled to his knees. If there was one thing to look forward to in training, it was the hope he'd gain as much muscle as his brother.

Though, with his stature, it sounded more like dream than reality.

By the time he recovered, Volt was already turning, tapping between Faolan's shoulder blades.

"C'mon, Alpha," The name would never sound normal to him, "the first day of the rest of your life is just ahead."

Faolan rolled his eyes with as much grandiose as he could muster.

"Oh, for the sake of the tribes, Volt - you make it sound like I'm signing my life away."

Volt didn't respond, his jaw clenching as he walked ahead. Faolan had to nearly jog to catch up.

"I'm not, right? _Right?_ "

At the end of the corridor, a set of seven-foot black doors stood. To the left, there was a glowing yellow pad he would have to jump to reach, though strangely the pad had no numbers, and looked more like a visor stuck to the wall than a keypad. It was thin, maybe two inches in height, but a foot in length. Volt sauntered right up to it, but before Faolan could pull out his keycard, a glistening light shot out from the pad, scanning his brother's eyes.

"Does that _hurt_?"

The scan was over before he was finished speaking. Volt glanced his way, and he heard a resounding _click, click, hmmmmmm_ from above the doors.

"Not at all. It used to irritate me, just 'cause it was so bright. You get used to it."

The young boy still watched, flabbergasted as the doors began to open inward. He was blinded by the light from outside, raising his bare hands to his face.

"How?"

Volt was already moving forward, into the light, until he was just a silhouette.

"Told you, one day. Hurry up and put your brave face on. The doors are only open thirty seconds."

His face felt red hot all the way up to his ears. Inhaling, he puffed his chest, lowered his arms, squinted his eyes, and attempted to rally all the courage left in his body. He stood for a moment, unable to move his legs, trying to prepare himself to march out like a hardened veteran. Yet as the doors began to close and he went to move, he found himself having to stumble sideways through the remaining gap, not wanting to be left behind.

 _I always have a brave face on,_ he thought to himself, though he knew he was lying.


End file.
